


Eyes of Steel, Soul of Tears

by Maeve_Pendergast



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Revenge of the Sith AU, Started out small and has now grown, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-15 12:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_Pendergast/pseuds/Maeve_Pendergast
Summary: Struck down. Struck down right in front of him. The last call, the battle cry, the final clash. And then, Sai Cha.His padawan, his brother, was dead. And all he could do was stare.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was a prompt I received on Tumblr. I will most likely be adding to it in the future. 
> 
> Catch me ranting about Star Wars, horses, and many other fandoms at: https://dynamicdiplomacy.tumblr.com/

Struck down. Struck down right in front of him.  
The last call, the battle cry, the final clash. And then, Sai Cha. 

His padawan, his brother, was dead.  
And all he could do was stare.

Stare at the fawn-coloured hair that always was a tangled mess.  
Stare at the sapphire eyes that held the brightest light.  
Stare at the sabre hilt that represented ten thousand years of prophecy come to life.  
Stare at the gloved hand that taught a million lessons in one single moment. 

High above the skies of Coruscant, the Chosen One took his last breath.  
Did the galaxy feel it? Do they _know_? Will all the stars and all the planets dim? Will the galaxy be darker now? 

_You are gone and it’s all my fault._

A familiar hum grew steadily before it was pounding in Obi-Wan’s ears. He whipped around, raising his blade just centimetres before he would have wound up like his padawan, in two pieces on the floor. The ginger-haired Jedi’s arms shook as the exertion of holding back Dooku’s attack took its toll. 

_Shut away your grief, Obi-Wan. Hide it away like you did on Naboo. The battlefield is no place for mourning._

And that is what he did. That’s what he always did. He locked it up in a gilded box, a box with a million locks, to be shut away from the world. 

He was not the perfect Jedi because he had no emotion. He was not even close to the perfect Jedi. He has emotion. Stars above, does he have emotion. But instead of letting it control him, he puts it away. _Keep your thoughts on the here and now,_ that’s what Master Qui-Gon always said. Grief in the box, shields solid and tight, defence mechanism in play. Master Qui-Gon used to always laugh about Obi-Wan’s defence mechanism. In the temple training halls, he was called the Sass Master, the not-quite master of the blade, but definitely the master of attitude. 

“Dooku, so nice to see you again. It’s a regular family reunion.” He quipped over the screaming of blade on blade. 

Dooku smirked, a twisted grin and eyes afire. “Such a shame it’s going to end in more bloodshed. It really was enjoyable to see you.” 

They exchanged blows back and forth for minutes. Each time, the sabres clashing in a great cacophony. The pair moving so swiftly, the colours blurred. However to the duelists, the red crystal of Dooku’s blade cast dark and haunted shadows. And those shadows, they played tricks on Obi-Wan’s already tempestuous mind. Every so often, the face would change. It would change from the pale and long, to the red and black. The face of man who haunted Obi-Wan’s life. _It isn’t real, he is gone. He is not here. Dooku is here, not Maul. Dooku._

Kenobi stumbled, his grip faltering on his sabre and the activator button shutting off. 

“Obviously, all your training hasn’t done much. You’re just as sloppy with your sabre as ever. I cannot believe they let you train the Chosen One. Maybe he would have survived if someone else had.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes could never hide his emotions. They read like playing cards; and right now, they blazed a wildfire. Igniting his blade and rushing towards the other man, he shoved Dooku backwards long enough to dive under the older Jedi’s arm and strike a burn to his side. Obi-Wan hear, rather than saw, the Sith lord hiss in pain. The man spun around swinging his crimson sabre with malicious intent. Kenobi, his features as cold and emotionless as stone, easily flipped up and over Dooku to face the Sith’s back. 

The wisp of a dream caught him as he landed. A wisp of a dream with a man with chestnut hair and kind eyes. 

_… That’s it Obi-Wan. Strike the back, blade against the neck. Subdue, don’t slaughter…_

Obi-Wan struck, slicing his blade up Dooku’s back, just enough to burn, not dismember. As the older man fell to his knees, the curved hilt of his blade fell from his hand. But before it could hit the steel deck plating it was pulled into a different hand. The hand of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

A blur of colour, blue and red.  
A half of minute of near silence, the only noise the steady hum of sabres and panting breaths. 

“Do it. Kill him.” The Chancellor urged, silently watching in wicked delight until this moment.

“No! I will not be manipulated like you manipulated him!” Obi-Wan screamed as his eyes flashed to the still corpse of his best friend. “You controlled him! You controlled him under false pretense. He thought you were helping him! He looked to you as a father figure when he needed one! And you _used_ him! He trusted you! Dooku will face trial and you will resign from your position.” Kenobi spat, the Force crackling about him. He turned to Dooku, his normally-blue eyes, steel daggers forged in the fires of grief. “You, stand up and turn around.” 

The Grandmaster-turned-Sith Lord compiled, his weapon displaced and his energy depleted. Obi-Wan snapped binders around the man’s wrists and pulled the Force close about him. One hand tight around the handcuffs and the other on the controls for the Chancellor’s restrains, he released the leader of the Galactic Republic from his captivity. 

“Thank you, young man. You are a credit to the Jedi.” Palpatine spoke, his voice dripping with false gratitude. But the young man in question was too focused on the body of his padawan to notice. His thoughts were of other things, darker things.

_Anakin, you will never get a proper funeral. You deserve to be burned on the pyre, mourned like a true Jedi, and remembered as a brave hero. Instead you will be burned here, in a ship you never flew, with people who don’t know you, forgotten except simply as a casualty of war._

Behind him, a small flick of the head between the Sith and the Chancellor signaled something far worse. The next thing the ginger-haired Jedi knew was a drilling pain in the back of his head and the familiar weight of a sabre hilt on his belt missing. He turned around just in time to see Dooku snap the binders around his wrists and Palpatine raise a fist.

The last thing Obi-Wan thought as he was dragged away, unconsciousness slowly slipping into his eyes, 

_Oh, my brother, you didn’t deserve this._


	2. II

Obi-Wan woke up screaming in his quarters at the Temple, his mind rattled and the blankets a tangled noose about his legs. 

_It was all just a dream. Anakin is safe, he is alive, and breathing. It is okay._

He stood up, throwing his blankets to the floor with a shaky hands. He quickly dressed in a loose pair of pants and a simple outer tunic before throwing his robe on and exiting his quarters. The Temple was warm in the morning. The sunlight lit up the stone and tile making it a calm and sequestered haven for the battered souls returning from war. It was this peace that quieted the pounding of Obi-Wan’s heart as he strode to the training salle.   
As the door hissed open, his eyes lit up. Anakin was waiting for him in the salle, tossing his Master a training staff as the older Jedi shed his robe. 

And there, standing across from each other, the dance began. 

_Strike. Spin. Defend. Flip. Stab. Shield. Strike. Strike. Defend._

It was nearly an hour before the spar was won. The Master stood, his staff pressed against the neck of his former padawan who lays, panting on the mat floor. Obi-Wan laughed, “That’s four spars in a row that you’ve let me win. Your sword skills are improving exponentially.” 

His quip was met with complete silence. A wave of animosity crashed into the Force with such power that it physically made Obi-Wan stumble backwards. As he stepped back, Anakin flew to his feet and began to rush the older man, his eyes ochre. 

“Anakin?!?” Obi-Wan asked, horror palpable in the air. 

“You _killed_ me!” Anakin screamed, as he began to swing his staff with malicious force at Obi-Wan. 

“You let me _die_! You didn’t even try to stop it! It’s all your fault! Qui-Gon was right! You are worthless! I am the Chosen One and you, you killed me! You are nothing! It is all your fault!” 

Blow after blow was swung at the ginger-haired man as he shielded his body with the wooden staff. But his defences soon became breached as the staff shattered into a myriad of shards. Anakin had backed Obi-Wan nearly into the wall by now. Every swing now was met by flesh. Over and over the staff pummeled into Obi-Wan with fatal power. Black ink encroached on his vision and he felt his body hit the ground…

Time meant nothing to him, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious but one very familiar voice penetrated the thick fog hovering in his head. 

“What’s happening? Where are these bruises coming from? He’s be laying here on a bed the entire time! How could he have been hurt?” 

“Master Windu, please calm down. Your alarm is not helping anyone. When we found him, he was in the throes of a violent nightmare. It has been documented that an individual can believe a dream or vision is so real that their body manifests the effects. There are cases dating all the way back to the Old Republic where individuals have had visions of their death that were so real, they physically died as a result. Master Kenobi has been through an extremely taxing course of events. He needs rest, undisturbed rest.” 

A soft groan interrupted the two before Mace could reply back.

“... No… No I don’t.” Obi-Wan managed to press out as he tried to sit up. 

“Obi-Wan, lay back. You need to rest. Come on, it’s okay. Just relax.” the healer spoke, her voice gentle. 

It was Mace’s deep voice who spoke next, a worried expression etched on his normally stone face. 

“Obi-Wan, can you look at me?” Tortured watery blue eyes swung to face the older man. “Where’s Anakin?” 

Obi-Wan’s mouth opened slightly and his lips began to move mumbling nothing coherent. Windu leaned in closer to try to make sense of it. 

“What are you saying, Obi-Wan? Where’s Anakin?” 

Two words, uttered so painfully, 

“Sai Cha.” And Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled back in his head. 

It was a day before Obi-Wan was released from the healers, another before he gathered enough courage to approach the most unthinkable task of all. He already had told the Council of Palpatine’s betrayal and a cross-planet search for him had been started. The Temple was cold now. The halls eerie and grim, everyone grieving the loss of another great Jedi. Standing in the temple hangar, he placed his hood up and strode through; eyes set on a speeder, glances from other Jedi unseen. Nobody approached him, nobody gave him sympathies, nobody said a word. Everyone knew what the hood meant, it was a gesture of privacy, a warning to let the man alone, let the man manage his grief his own way. The rest of the trip passed as a blur and soon the despairing Jedi stood before a gilded door in the Federal District. 

He took a deep breath, pulled his cloak tight about him, and pressed the chime.

“Obi-Wan! It’s so good to see you! Please come in! I’ll make tea. Is Anakin with you?” Padme rambled as she peered around Obi-Wan to look for her husband. 

“Padme, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“Sure, what do you need? If it’s about that message I sent you on accident I swear I meant to send it to C3PO not you! You really didn’t need to pick up my dresses from the dry clean-” Obi-Wan reached out, cutting her off mid-sentence, gently grasping her wrists. Padme turned her eyes, the colour of worn leather, to gaze at the Jedi questioningly. 

“I’m serious. Can we please sit down?”

Padme stared at him for another moment, judging the look in his eyes and gestured to the sitting room of the apartment. Obi-Wan stepped past her and lowered himself into a well-loved armchair. The senator paused only a moment to peer up and down the hallway before turning and joining Obi-Wan on a couch diagonally across from him. 

“Padme, three days ago Anakin and I were sent to rescue the Chancellor and we… we encountered Count Dooku. We fought as hard as we could but Anakin, he charged ahead and attacked Dooku alone and Dooku… Dooku cut him down. He’s gone, Padme. Anakin’s dead.”

Padme looked at him for a moment and then did something to completely throw Obi-Wan off guard. She _laughed_. The Jedi tensed, feeling the amusement radiate off of her. _Oh Force, please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this to her. Please don’t._

“You’re lying. Anakin’s set you up for this. You probably lost a bet and he’s making you pay for it by doing this. Where is he? Is he going to pop up at the door with dinner? I have to say you are one really convincing actor. Ha, Anakin dead. That’s a good one.”

“You would think I would lie about this? You think I would lie about… about letting my brother die? He is… he is dead!” Obi-Wan shouted, his voice a hoarse cry. He sat down defeated and whispered to no one in particular, “And it’s all my fault.” 

“I want to see his body then.” Padme stated firmly, accentuating the demand by crossing her arms.

Obi-Wan nearly choked. “What!??”

“You heard me, if he’s really dead I want to see his body.” 

“You… you can’t.”

“Why not? If it’s some idiotic Jedi tradition then I’ll have you know that I am a senator of the Galactic Republic and it’s my right to be able to see the body of my most fearless and noble guard.” 

Obi-Wan reached out again but she pulled herself out of reach with a huff.

“Padme please, you can’t see his body because… because well, we don’t have it!” He shouted, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth across the sitting room.  
“I tried, oh I tried to save him but there was nothing I could do. And before I could send someone to pick up his body, Dooku and Palpatine turned on me and knocked me out and I don’t know what happened after that but I woke up and he wasn’t there and it’s all my fault. You lost the love of your life because of me. His body burned without the honour he deserved. And maybe if I had taught him more, stopped him harder, he would still be here but he’s not and it’s all my fault. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault!” The Jedi was screaming by this point, agitation and guilt shattering his calm centre. 

Padme sat there, watching him repeat that one phrase over and over again like a broken holovid. It was in that terrifying moment that Padme knew, _he wasn’t lying_. Her face paled and her eyes widened, remorse flooding through her. She opened her mouth to speak but before a single syllable could be uttered, a loud thud shocked her from her stupor. Obi-Wan laid on the floor, curled into a tight ball and continuing to mutter _it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault_. The Nabooian senator’s grief was sudden forgotten as her instinct to help people took over and she rushed to his side and pulled him up to sit against the wall. 

“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, can you hear me? Look at me. When was the last time you slept? Or ate for that matter?” Padme asked, eyeing the sickly transparency of his skin. 

“Can’t… can’t eat… can’t sleep… nightmares. It’s all my fault. All my fault.” 

“Obi-Wan, it’s not your fault, okay? Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. The only person at fault there is Dooku. He killed Anakin. Not you.” 

“Maybe if I tried harder to get him to let go of some of his arrogance, he would still be here. I let his hubris slide because he was the Chosen One, he was constantly ridiculed, he was always judged. He needed the extra confidence boost to get through the life he had been cruelly handed. And now I see, that arrogance got him killed. I got your husband killed and I am so sorry.”

“Wait you knew?” Padme queried, astonished at the discovery. 

A bitter laugh escaped Obi-Wan’s pale lips. “Of course I knew. You thought you were subtle? Ha, I knew the moment you returned from Naboo after what I assume was your wedding. Anakin might as well have had ‘Newlywed’ written on his forehead the way he looked at you. I’m just sad I never got an invitation. I would have been proud to go.” 

“So you’re not mad? Anakin said you would be furious.” 

“No, I’m not mad. I saw the way it made him feel, he felt so loved. You did so much for him, Padme. The war was terrible on all of us, Anakin especially. His eyes were always so gaunt and shuttered, but when he saw you, oh when he saw you, all that was gone. That bright and unfettered glint was back. He was free again. I never said anything because he needed every glimmer of hope he could get and I couldn’t bear extinguishing it because I know he would have if I had said something. Now I realize, maybe I should have…”

“Come here, let’s make you some broth. You need to get something light into your stomach. And then we can talk. Okay?” The senator soothed placing an arm behind Obi-Wan, helping him to his feet before ushering him into the kitchen. The Jedi fell into a seat at the dining table much too strongly for Padme’s liking. Choosing not to comment on it, she turned her attention to making a small bowl of broth. A glance to the side revealed a broken shell of man sitting like a man who just lost his entire world and all he could do was stare. _He looks like he lost his entire world because he did lose his entire world. Anakin was his whole world. Not his lover but his friend. He cared for Anakin when no one else would. He was just a scared young man with a severed padawan braid and a empty spot where his master should’ve stood. And for over a decade, Anakin was a part of his life through and through. Anakin filled that empty spot with love and joy. And now, in a single heartbeat, that light was gone._

It was complete silence, the weight of the moment too heavy to speak through, until a small _clink_ marked the setting down of a bowl on the table. A shuffling of fabric as Padme sat down diagonally from Obi-Wan and handed him the spoon. The Jedi took the spoon and swirled it around the soup, staring at the well-worn bowl as if it were a piece of art at a museum.

“Don’t make me feed you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because you know I will if I have to!” 

Padme’s attempt at humour spurred a small, rueful smile upon the older man’s face. He filled his spoon with broth and brought it to his mouth. Slowly, one spoonful after another, the bowl emptied and both the Senator and the Jedi were satisfied. 

“Obi-Wan… there’s something I need to tell you.”

The man with ginger-hair looked up suddenly, his eyes betraying glimpses of fear. _Oh no, maybe I shouldn’t tell him. He’s been through enough… no, if I don’t tell him now, there won’t be a better time._

“I’m pregnant. And it’s Anakin’s.” 

Obi-Wan dropped the spoon with a loud clack. “What?!? What are you going to do? Are you going to keep it? How are you going to manage your senatorial duties and motherhood?”

“Obi-Wan, slow down. I just found out. I have a lot of decisions to make but we’ll cross those bridges when we get to them, okay? I’m here for you. I want you to talk to me. What happened? Do you remember anything from the battle after Anakin was, was killed?” Oh gods, those words are hard to say. I never thought I’d ever have to say those words. But here I am, a widow sitting across from a broken frame of a man saying those very words. 

“I… I captured Dooku but he and Palpatine are working together and they knocked me out. After that, I don’t know. Mace told me that they found me, unconscious, dumped on the Temple steps like a pile of refuse. I’d been drugged and beaten, no doubt from Palpatine and Dooku. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face you knowing what I’d done. I’ve caused so many people so much pain and it’s all my fault. Qui-Gon and Tahl, Cerasi and Taria, Satine, and you. It’s all my fault. It’s always my fault.” 

Padme reached out to gently grasp Obi-Wan’s forearm in an attempt to ground him in the moment. Obi-Wan had always quoted his master, something about focusing on the moment but Padme dare not try to attempt the recitation, that would be too much for Obi-Wan to handle. 

“If Anakin was here right now, he would look you in the eyes and tell you it wasn’t your fault. Anakin knew the risks, Anakin always knew the risks even when it seemed like he didn’t. The only person responsible for his death is Dooku. Not you, never you. Anakin loved you, Obi-Wan. He always will.” 

Obi-Wan’s crystal blue eyes were suddenly red-rimmed. And right in front of Padme’s eyes, tears began to roll down his cheeks, one by one, like a funeral procession; each tear another memory escaping, another weight off his shoulders.

“Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, esteemed negotiator and hero of the Republic, it is not your duty to carry the weight of the universe on your shoulders.”

There was a silent pause where both friends stared at each other, one’s brown eyes searching the other’s blue for any trace of clarity. Instead, she watched the blue-eyed man’s pupils widened before his mouth opened and a rushed, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” came out. 

And then in a blur of brown and tan, the Jedi fled.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on this being posted almost a month after the previous update. I didn't have internet connection while writing this so this chapter is unbeta'd. I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Thank you for your continued support.

"Master Kenobi, Master Kenobi. Are you listening?"

"Mhmm… Sorry, what?" Obi-Wan replied groggily as he tried to pull his mind back to the matters at hand.

"We were talking about the possible addition of all 859 volumes of the Chronicles of Yuravo to the archives?" _Force, with a topic like that it's a wonder no one else has zoned out. No, wait I think Plo is asleep behind his goggles._ "What is your position on the debate?"

_Quick, Obi-Wan. Think of something… Go for neutral. Neutral is good._

"I believe that the Chronicles will be beneficial to the education of our students, especially those in Species Diversity and Ethics. However, we must consider the extensive amount of space needed to hold such volumes."

"You bring up excellent points, Master Kenobi. I however, believe that the volumes can be accommodated if we rerouted electro-conduits 7981-Aurek through 8904-Cresh across the mainstay hallway and then took the ventilation ducts from the mainstay and moved them across to the 1st quadrant refectory ceiling and then we could take those and…"

If anyone had still managed to hold onto their concentration after that point, they deserved to replace Yoda as Grandmaster. Sure, being a Councillor had its advantages but if someone had told him about the sheer tedium of it as you sit in meeting after meeting about everything from the colour of the walls in the new salles to the weekly food orders, he would have turned down the position in a heartbeat. His eyes struggled to stay open and his stomach felt as though it was a ship on the waves, rocking nauseatingly over and over. He shuddered and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, just as he felt a pair of dark eyes settle upon him.

"Perhaps for the sake of all here, we should adjourn this discussion for another day. We have been in session for over 3 hours and the midday meal hour is approaching." Mace Windu's deep voice rang through the chamber and was greeted with numerous agreeing murmurs.

_Force bless Master Windu, he saw right through me. I can't say he didn't do it easily. I haven't been very good at being subtle recently. At least that torturous council session is over. Now I can maybe go lie down for a little bit._

"Obi-Wan, can I speak to you for a minute?"

The ginger-haired master fought the urge to sigh, _so much for that idea_. Moving towards the Korun Jedi Master, he painted his face with false cheer.

"You look terrible."

"Thanks, Mace. I'm glad you think I need your opinion on something I already know."

"I'm not joking, Obi-Wan. I told you you could take a break from sessions for a few weeks. Maybe just spend some time relaxing in the Temple? You've been through hell."

"I need to keep my mind busy, Mace. When I'm by myself, my thoughts, they just drown me. Like a wave beating ceaselessly against the shore, they just _keep coming._ I need to be doing something!" His raised voice caught the attention of a few Council members who flashed slight disdainful glances his way. Turning back to Mace to hide his demeaned face, he suddenly swayed on his feet. The older Jedi reached out to steady his friend but Obi-Wan took a quick step backwards, "I don't feel so good. I need to go."

In the blink of an eye Obi-Wan was gone, the chamber door whooshing shut behind him.

Obi-Wan didn't return to his quarters right away, there was someone he needed to speak to first. He stumbled towards the gardens, falling to his knees at the base of the mighty oak that grew in it.

"Master, please. I need you. Please. I can't do this again, not again, not again."

And as it was every time he went to the tree, his pleas were met with silence.

"What will it take for you to just talk to me? What more hell do I have to go through to just get you talk to me?!?!" he cried, pounding his hands against the trunk. "I need you, Master but you're never there. Please…"

Obi-Wan sagged and pressed his forehead into the rough bark. If he tried hard enough he could imagine the earthy scent of his master emanating from the great oak.

"Please… please…" He whispered into the tree.

Everyone in the Temple had heard the rumours surrounding the tree. It had appeared very shortly after the Battle of Naboo and was rumoured to have been planted by a distraught apprentice mourning the loss of his master. But only Obi-Wan knew the truth. It had been in fact planted by him after Qui-Gon's death, but deep beneath the tree in the gnarled and twisted roots lay the polished hilt of a lightsabre and a small pouch containing the last ashes of the man who had shaped Obi-Wan's destiny. It was the ashes that had nourished the tree into the monolith it was. That tree had roots that went much further than just the earth beneath it.

To the others in the garden, nobody acknowledged or mentioned the man who sat talking to himself in the corner. Nobody spoke, nobody tried to help, they simply let it be. They knew who he was and why he was there.

The _Ka'rta_ tree had recently gained a brother. A small elm sapling had been planted in a mound of fresh dirt just next to the massive base of the elder, a marker of the most recent life lost to war.

And for hours, Obi-Wan sat and faced the new sapling under the protection of the elder's branches. Giving the elm's tiny leaves one final stroke, he walked out the gardens. While his back was turned, the mighty oak behind him shuddered with an ephemeral breeze and reached a branch down to the sapling as if resting a hand on the younger's shoulder.

Obi-Wan collapsed onto his couch, drained from his catharsis, calling to his comm centre on the desk when the quietness became oppressive.

"Comm, wake up."

_Comm, waking up. Recognized voice pattern, Obi-Wan Kenobi, authorization code 75031._

"Any new messages?"

_Obi-Wan Kenobi, you have 81 unread messages. Messages 1-46 from the Senatorial office of Padme Amidala of Naboo, the oldest having been received 2 days ago. Message 47 sent to all Council members by Master Koiah, Master of the First Knowledge bearing the subject line 'Chronicles debate continued'. Messages 48-80 are replies to the previous messages from all Council members except for Plo Koon and yourself. Message 81 sent from an unknown sender but the planet code decrypts as Kamino. The subject line reads 'Kingpin Protocol'._

Obi-Wan's half-aware brain shot into focus at the mention of the last message. Who on Kamino was sending him messages? And how did they know about Kingpin? _Too many questions. Too many questions. I have to go. I have to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ka'rta: the Mandalorian word for 'heart'.


	4. IV

She knew non-Jedi were technically not allowed in the Temple. _But,_ she thought, _that was a rule to keep ruffians and scoundrels out. Not distinguished senators. Plus, I need to see Obi-Wan. I need to know that he’s okay. If anything happens to him, it will be my fault._

However, her plan had two rather large errors. Because nobody was allowed in the Temple, there were no floor plans of the Temple available publicly. This was both strategic and infuriating at the same time. Strategic because if anyone was foolish enough to siege it, the Jedi would have a definite advantage and infuriating because it prevented senators from sneaking around. And secondly off this point, the Jedi Temple was _huge._ 500,000 square metres in total, it stood as a safe harbour away from the galaxy the Jedi carried on their shoulders. It was a sacrosanct place, a harmonious place, a cherished place, even to those without the Force. 

She silently thanked, well _something_ , that nobody was in the halls at the time. Padme had heard Obi-Wan and Anakin speak in hushed tones about how empty the Temple was. And she had never believed them, until now. It was both a blessing and a curse.

The grief had come later that night, after Obi-Wan had fled. It hit Padme when she was alone and most vulnerable. That’s the way it always with grief. It knows when we’re at our weakest and strikes the final blow. It had come in the air, a breath of mint and cardamom, a scent that grown to mean _home_. Right now, it was anything but. It was a reminder; a reminder that he _wasn’t_ coming home, that he would never come home. 

The sudden call of voices alerted Padme to the approach of a few Jedi students. Skittering into a nearby niche behind a statue of some famous Jedi, she listened as they walked by.

“Did you hear that there’s another tree next to _Ka’rta_ now? They’re saying Master Kenobi planted it for his padawan. I heard everyone’s calling it _Ad’ike_.”

“Really? I saw Master Kenobi in Garden of Repose pressing his forehead to _Ka’rta_ and crying a few weeks ago. I wanted to say something but he probably wanted to be alone.”

 _I need to see those trees,_ Padme decided. Stepping out of the cove and startling the students, she pulled her calm and collected senatorial identity close about her.

“Greetings, master Jedi.” The students flushed, _hey a little flattery goes a long way_. “I was just admiring this fine statue when I remembered I have an appointment in the Garden of Repose but I’m afraid I’ve got no idea how to get there. Could you point me in the correct direction?”

The students gave her a apprehensive look and exchanged nervous eye contact before concluding the senator meant no harm. The older of the two, a Togrutan with sharply pointed mustard and navy lekku, stepped forward and bowed.

“Welcome to the Temple but we are most definitely not masters. I am Initiate Fahn-et and this is my friend Initiate Uei.” The younger one waved enthusiastically before remembering her manners and bowing. Fahn-et gave a little snort at the Uei’s antics before continuing. “At the end of this hallway, take a right and walk until you see a set of large wooden doors on your right. Keep going past those doors and you’ll find a small stone door inset in the wall. Go through that and you should reach a chamber with desks and stuff. That’s the study room off the archives. The glass doors on the other side of the chamber lead straight out into the Garden. I’m afraid if you get lost there won’t be many people around to ask for help. Most of the Temple is at midday meal.” 

It was at this point that Uei chimed in, a lavender-haired Balosari, her high voice overflowing with excitement. 

“We would walk there ourselves but we have a lesson with Master Drallig! He promised to show us Makashi!”

“It’s no problem, young one. That sounds much more exciting than showing a woman through the Temple. I will find my own way, thank you.” Padme dipped her head gently, showing her thanks before turning on her heels and continuing on her way away from the students. She waited until they were out of sight before breaking into a full-on sprint through the hallways. They were right when they said everyone was at the commissaries; Padme didn’t encounter another living soul as she ran to the garden. The Garden was long and rectangular with a covered cloister running on the longer sides and a myriad of shrubs and bushes along the edges. There were only two trees in the space, one tall and mighty oak, and one thin and tiny sapling. _Ka’rta and A’dike no doubt._ Stepping fully into the space, she heard a soft voice from across the garden. A brown-cloaked figure knelt in between the two trees. A figure with ginger hair. _Obi-Wan!_ Padme quietly snuck closer to him and hid behind a patch of tall grasses so she could hear him better, _and maybe catch him if he tries to run again._

“Master, please if you can hear me, forgive me for this. Forgive me for what I’m about to do. And Anakin, my child, if you can hear me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Everything I did and everything in the future. It’s for the best. I promise, it’s for the best. I can’t stand seeing what this place did to you. I have to take care of Kingpin. I have to do this.” 

Padme’s blood ran cold, _what is he going to do? Should I tell someone? What if he harms himself or others?_ But before she could make any move, the garden went suddenly quiet. She looked up and saw Obi-Wan looking directly at the grasses she was concealed behind. The senator took a sharp inhale and hoped that he wouldn’t see her. Slowly, Obi-Wan turned back to the trees and continued speaking. Padme crept out from her hideaway and approached her friend until she stood a step behind him. Softly she called out as to not startle him. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s Padme. Can I talk to you?”

She was not gifted with a response. She reached out to touch his shoulder, and immediately regretted it. The Jedi whirled around pulling his sabre to his hand but not having time to ignite it as Padme knocked it to the ground. 

“Obi-Wan! Calm down! It’s me! It’s Padme. I’m sorry I startled you, I just need to talk to you. _Please._ I’m sorry about what I did. I shouldn’t have said those things.” She was met with silence, suffocating as the unspoken emotions pressed upon both their chests. Obi-Wan’s bottle-glass eyes searched hers; searching for something, anything to bring peace to his heart. 

He found none. 

“Padme, I have to go. I was assigned a mission and it’s a priority and there’s people in danger. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Now, I have to go or I’ll miss my transit. Goodbye.” His tone was aloof and succinct, sparing no time for emotions. The epitome of a Jedi.

And once again, in a blur of cream and tan, the Jedi was gone.  
“Obi-Wan!” Padme called after him, reaching out for the ghost of a man burdened by grief. She caught nothing. Turning back to the monolithic trees in front of her, she lowered herself to the ground in front of the small elm and stretched out a gentle hand to stroke the leaves. Her hand shook, the weight of melancholy once again pressed upon her. She didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to feel the love and devotion pulsing within the trees. The final vanguard broke, and Padme cried. No, she sobbed. She got as close as she could to the small trunk and hugged it. After all, it was the last remaining reminder of her husband. The child within her was precious no doubt, but it was its own living being, not a replacement for Anakin. Never a replacement for Anakin.

Unbeknown to Padme, she was not alone. Hidden behind a stone column in the cloister were two of the highest ranking Jedi in the Order. 

“Does she know non-Jedi require an escort in the Temple?” Eeth Koth whispered. 

The soft rumbling voice of Plo Koon answered him, “Just let her be, she means no harm. It’s clear she needs this. Peace is not often found after grief and this is just one step on the long road to acceptance.” 

“I forget that humans deal with grief much differently than my species. Plo, when did you get so wise about humans’ emotions?” 

“Practice, unfortunately. Too much practice. Rarely have Jedi been directly involved in wars, and we are dearly paying the price. Who are we to deny safe haven to an aching heart?” The Kel Dor swept his arm to the woman still weeping in the garden. With the gesture, he sent a calming wave of _sleep_ to the senator who gasped once and slid to the ground, asleep. “Now, come and help me carry her to the guest quarters.” 

They were an odd sight for sure. Eeth Koth parting the crowds returning from midday meal as Plo Koon carried the unconscious form of a distinguished senator, fireman style, down the halls. A few masters stopped and raised a finger to ask a question but immediately dropped it and shook their heads. 

Plo gently set the senator down on the bed and removed her shoes. 

“Now we must let her rest, I will have some food sent down here for later.” he commented before turning to leave the quarters. Koth closed the shades and followed after the Kel Dor, changing the ‘No Resident’ sign on the outside of the apartment to read “Senator Amidala of Naboo”.

It was nearing nine hours postmeridian when Padme finally awoke. Startled by the unfamiliar surroundings she blinked rapidly. Realizing she was in the Temple, a exasperated thought escaped her mouth.

“Kriffing Jedi and their kriffing mind tricks.” 

She dragged herself out of bed and into the simple but spacious refresher. She looked terrible and she knew it. Her hair was mussed, her eyes red-rimmed, and makeup completely smeared. Just as she was about to step into the sonic shower for a much needed wash, an urgent doorbell interrupted. Throwing on the plush robe provided, she moved to the door and pressed the ‘open’ button. Her eyes bulged when she saw who stood at the door. _All_ remaining eleven members of the Jedi High Council. Every single one. 

“Ma… Masters, I did not expect all of you. My apologies for my state of attire.” She stuttered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. 

“It is no problem, Senator. We understand that you were not expecting us. However, we do have some rather urgent business, may we come in?” Master Billaba spoke, her cultured tones calming Padme’s nerves. 

“Absolutely! Please,” The senator spoke, stepping back to allow them to enter. “If I may ask, can I be given a moment to dress? I am not in appropriate attire.”

“Of course, we will make ourselves comfortable.” 

Padme nodded nervously, a faint smile on her face before dashing into the refresher to clothe. Pausing for a moment to look in the mirror, she splashed water on her face before summoning her courage and stepping out. All eleven Councillors looked rather crammed into the small living room, taking residence on the arms of couches, and chairs as well as in them as well. However, there was one seat in the centre of the group left empty. _Oh great. A front row seat with eleven of the most intimidating people ever. Deep, calm breathes. Deep, calm breathes._

It took all of her twenty years of diplomatic training to not run away under the pressure. Seating herself in the chair gracefully, Padme plastered a smile upon her face and greeted them all, “How can I help the Jedi High Council? Surely a senator like me is not _that_ interesting.” 

Small chuckles passed through them. _Good,_ she mused, _lighten the mood a little bit._

“Actually, Senator Amidala, it is your relationship to Obi-Wan Kenobi which we have come to speak to you about. I’m afraid we have some rather frightful news.” Padme’s face paled, _oh no he did do something harmful and I just sat there._

It was Shaak Ti who took over for the remainder of the conversation, “As of one hour postmeridian, Obi-Wan Kenobi is missing. He stole a starfighter from the Temple hangar without prior mission approval and gave no indication of his destination or motive. This is a breach in protocol and I must say we are in shock. These actions are not in his nature. We understand he has been under considerable duress but we did not believe it would escalate to this. You are the last one to have spoken to him. Did he give any indication of his plans?”

The senator sat for a minute in pure horror. _Obi-Wan missing? How many more friends can I lose? No, no. Obi-Wan is not lost. There has to be a reason for this. There has to be._

“Well, I don’t think he said anything particularly of interest. When I spoke to him, he was in the Garden of Repose sitting in front of the trees. I’ve heard they have special meaning to him. I was just not aware of how much. He was talking to the trees, saying things like ‘please forgive me’ and ‘I’m sorry for what I’m going to do’... I thought it was grief at first but now that you’re here, I know it’s something more. There was one more thing that he said, it was a name. But not like a normal name that you would give a person. Oh what was it… king… king something. Kingpin! That’s it, Kingpin! He said ‘I have to take care of Kingpin’.” 

If Padme could get any more anxious, the Council’s actions after that statement would have sent her stomach to the centre of Coruscant. The Jedi all shot uneasy glances at each other and a few exchanged hushed words with one another. 

“What? What is it? What’s Kingpin?” 

“Thank you for your insight. Please enjoy the facilities we have to offer for as long as you like. If you wish to explore the Temple, you can call for a padawan escort by using the comm centre. Now, you must excuse us. We have urgent business to discuss.” 

In one fluid motion, the entire Council stood up and moved to leave. Padme was not having any of it. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

“Now wait a minute!” She exclaimed, running over to stand between the Council and the door. “You are going to explain to me what Kingpin is now or so help me! I’m tired of being pushed aside by you mystical space wizards simply because I am not one of you! I am a dear friend of Obi-Wan and I deserve to know what is going on!” She was on the verge of yelling at this point and her fierce demeanor caused several of the Council members to send stern glances her way. However, she swore she could see Plo Koon’s face rise with a smile behind his mask. 

“Senator, it will take a long while to explain the entirety of the operation and we do not have that kind of time at the moment. However, you may join us on the mission to go track down Obi-Wan. We will leave in forty minutes from Hangar Senth.”

Gently, Ki-Adi-Mundi placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder to push her aside as the Council walked out. 

Her mind was spinning with a thousand thoughts but she managed to call out once more. 

“Wait! Where are we going?” 

“Kamino. We’re going to Kamino.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ka'rta: the Mandalorian word for 'heart'.
> 
> Ad'ike: the Mandalorian word for 'son'.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains mentions of suicidal thoughts

Listen, you don't have to be so damn strong all the time. You don't have to show the world this perfect image of yourself, an image that never falters, never fails, never makes a mistake or encounters weakness. As beautiful as that would be, that's not real. Because you're not perfect. None of us are. So stop trying to be. Stop thinking that you have to always be the sturdy one, the put-together one, the person without any pain or issues or moment of fragility. It's okay to mess up. It's okay to feel sad. It's okay to be low and lean on someone else. It's okay to not be so damn strong for a minute, and to let someone else help you through. You will rise to your feet again in time.  
-Marisa Donnelly, _You Don’t Have To Be So Damn Strong All The Time_

* * *

_Jedi make the worst travelling companions,_ Padme thought bitterly. _Early mornings, strange habits, bland food, and even blander topics of conversation. Even their ship is bland._ Six two-person rooms surrounding one common area with a tiny cockpit mounted at the front. No extraneous decorations or luxuries. She was lucky enough to share a room with Depa Billaba who at least was kind enough to make conversation. _Force bless the poor soul who has to room with Yoda._ The senior members of the Council ignored her leaving the younger generation to ‘mend the fences’. 

It wasn’t until almost three hours into the trip that she finally began to warm up to her companions. The trip is normally only a few hours but that is when you ride in a sleek and fast starfighter. The _Cavalcade_ , the Council’s private ship, was much larger and much slower. A bigger ship means more energy needed for hyperspace and fancy engines capable of producing that needed energy cost too much, even for the Jedi Order. The trip was now a day and a half, a time that Padme had been dreading. But instead she found it rather… fun. Never in her wildest imagination did she expect the Jedi High Council to be fun. Together she, Kit Fisto, Plo Koon, Depa Billaba, and Stass Allie bonded over politics, personal interests, holonovels and holodramas, fanciful dreams, and shared exasperations. It was a welcome break from the stresses they all felt. But more than just providing a retreat, it showed Padme a side of the Jedi she’d never seen. It was a glimpse into the world Anakin and Obi-Wan lived everyday, a world usually closed off to outsiders, a world very few people were privy to. In a time when she felt worthless, the experience made her feel special.

Towards the end of the night, with the ship safely set on autopilot, the entire council and one Nabooian senator sat down at the enormous conference table for their traditional game of Sabacc. Sabacc had become tradition for the Council whenever they travelled aboard the _Cavalcade_ together. They could be on the way to one of the toughest or bloodiest battles and they still played. The Council knew more than anyone how precious life is. Their game became a symbol of friendship, a distraction from life’s duress, and a reminder that living everyday like the last is the most important thing you can do. Depa had confided in Padme as they sat down that just before Obi-Wan and Adi had left to hunt down Maul, they had all sat around this table and played Sabacc. They didn’t know it would be Adi’s last. 

As the game continued on, Padme quickly discovered that Kit Fisto was one mean card sharp. He won every round and by halfway through the game he wound up with nearly everyone’s credits and quite a few free meals to claim. To say playing cards with the Jedi was interesting was a serious understatement; playing cards with them was _wild._ It had started out as a good game, everyone seeming to have fortune on their side but after the first time Yoda lost a round, all hell broke loose. Yoda kept using the Force to bend Ki-Adi-Mundi’s cards back when he wasn’t looking so Yoda could see them. Mace glared so much he actually intimidated the others to fold their hands. Saesee Tiin lost every single round. Stass and Kit got into betting war after betting war eventually betting their chairs in the Council rooms as collateral. And through it all, Padme sat and watched this whole new side unfold, a mixture of shock and amusement painted clearly over her face. _Oh how I wish Anakin could see this now. He would’ve completely changed his perspective. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have thought himself invincible like them, he wouldn’t have rushed into battle, he wouldn’t have been killed, he wouldn’t…_ Padme felt tears pool at the base of her eyes and feigning a cough she wiped them with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat and raised her voice to address the rest of the people in the room. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Masters. I am going to take my leave and get some rest. Thank you all for a wonderful evening,” she expressed before standing up and returning to her room. 

Silence had become oppressive in Padme’ life. The silence of friends not knowing what to say, the silence of sympathetic looks, the silence of conversations interrupted by grief, the silence of a companion, a friend, a lover, never to speak again.

Praying to something, anything, she hoped the others hadn’t seen the tears that escaped at the Sabacc table. _They’re Jedi; of course they saw. Kark, they probably felt my tears too._

And as if the galaxy was mocking her, the door chime rang. Padme choked out a soft ‘enter’ despite her mind telling her to close herself off. The door slid open and light poured in from the common room. 

“Credit for your thoughts?” Kit Fisto smiled, holding a newly-acquired credit chip in between his fingers. 

Padme’s eyes brighten just a little at the Jedi’s feeble attempt at humour. “Master Fisto, please sit.” 

“I thought we went through this, my name is ‘Kit’. Not _Master Fisto_ ; nobody calls me Master Fisto not even Yoda.”

“Please, _Kit_ , sit down.” 

“I would be honoured, _Padme_.” He bowed gently before pulling the only chair in the room in front of Padme and sitting down. There they sat in silence for a few minutes before Kit spoke up. 

“You don’t have to hide it for the sake of others, you know.”

Of all the things Padme expected to come from the Nautolan’s mouth, that was decidedly not one of them. _Does he know about our marriage? About the baby?_

“W-What?” She stuttered, her confusion showing. 

“You are entitled to grieve as much as anyone else in the galaxy. Just because you are a senator does not mean you have to always be strong. It’s okay to feel weak sometimes. Hiding your grief away does not make it go away, it causes it to fester.”

“Kit, please I’m not really in the mood to talk about it right now. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, I will talk then. Maybe it will convince you to open up your heart and if not, well it will help me open up mine. I doubt Anakin ever told you but like him I had a padawan. His name was Nahdar Vebb. He was handsome, intelligent, dedicated, and strong-willed. He was eleven when I first met him, sitting by himself in the dining hall pretending that the rest of the world just didn’t matter to him. It took me weeks and weeks to get him to open up to me. I remember the first day I got him to smile. It took three whole months just to get a smile. But when he did, every single ounce of effort was worth it. It took me nine more months for me to get the courage to ask him to be my padawan. I was young, only four years past my trials and not much to show for it. I expected the Council to deny my request but they granted it and I welcomed Nahdar into my home. He never spoke a word to me for that first year after we became a team. I doubted my every decision as a result and thought I was doing it all wrong. I looked at other master/padawan pairs and asked ‘why couldn’t I be like them’. But then a very wise green troll approached me after a particularly rough training session and whacked me on the shin and told me to adapt, to speak to Nahdar in ways that _he_ would understand not just in ways _I_ understood. So that night, I sat him down at the table and just sat there. We didn’t speak one word to each other for several hours, our eyes locked on each other until finally, he spoke. The first thing my padawan ever said to me was “You’re kinda freaking me out, Master”. I nearly cried right then and there. Our partnership blossomed and became more than just master and padawan. We became brothers much in the same way that Obi-Wan and Anakin bonded. Everyday he reminded me more and more of myself. But then, it all changed.” Kit continued, his eyes staring down as if the floor was the most interesting thing in the galaxy. Padme sat in silence, she never knew that Kit had had a padawan, or that Obi-Wan had helped them find their way. Newfound respect grew in her heart; she never knew Obi-Wan was a mentor to others.

“There was one mission that sent our little world spiralling. We were trapped on a planet, held by their government for failing to bring negotiations to a peaceful close. We sat in a cold cell for a week, just the two of us. And each moment we spent there, I saw Nahdar unfurl. He became more and more agitated, his thoughts moving from serenity to aggression. I became concerned he would harm himself or me. After five days, he stormed up to me and swung a fist towards my face. Out of pure instinct, I threw my hands over my face and cried ‘please, don’t hurt me’. His perilous control finally snapped. He flew backwards, screaming at me that I should stand up and try to free us instead of just sitting there doing nothing, that I was pointless, worthless, and naive. He yelled at me for almost an hour, speaking more than I had ever heard from him before. All the years of pent-up emotions came loose in one great catharsis. I sat through the whole thing, letting him tear every one of my insecurities open again. And when it was over, it was like nothing had ever happened. Our relationship returned to normal and no mention of the outburst was ever spoken again. I became concerned that it would happen again or Nahdar would hurt someone like he had tried to hurt me. So I turned to Obi-Wan. I saw how he had raised Anakin against all odds, turning a bitter and haunted boy into the spirited and compassionate man you loved. Together with Obi-Wan’s help, things grew better. Sure there were days when it felt we took four steps back and only one forward, but we still moved forward. In the final years of his apprenticeship, Nahdar matured into an extraordinary Jedi. I was so proud of him. We had come so far together and it felt like it would never end. And then war came, and we were separated. He passed the trials of Knighthood while I sat on a desolate planet counting the wounded. I missed him greatly; for years I had come to love his place at my side, his ever present coil of energy just waiting to spring. But he was a knight now, on his own in a galaxy where judgments passed on a whim and acceptance was not easily bought. It was fate that brought our paths together again on Vassek 3.” He paused here, not quite ready to start retelling the tale of tragedy struck.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, he began again, “We had finally discovered Grievous’ lair and we had high hopes of bringing the war to a swift end. And in the final moments, it was that hope that ultimately got Nahdar killed. He had been on his own for two years struggling to find someone who understood him. He had forgotten that there was someone in the world who understood him… _me_. He learned to be self-reliant, that the galaxy didn’t care about him. He rushed into battle alone, forgetting I was supposed to be at his side, and he paid the ultimate price. I blamed myself for not trying harder to keep us together, for not trying harder to remind Nahdar that there was someone there for him. But I never stopped being proud of him, even with everything that had happened, I was proud of him. I was _always_ proud of him. That is why Obi-Wan and I grew to become such close friends. We both accepted that after a certain point, your love for another being blinds you to the downfalls you once saw in them. We loved our apprentices so much that we didn’t see what was happening. We were blinded. You are blinded by your compassion for others that you don’t see what your grief is doing to _you_. Your own mind is putting up blockades, pushing you away from your grief, blinding you to the festering wound it has become, Padme. Please open up for me, please let go of some of your grief,” he whispered, reaching out to place his hands upon hers. “I have borne the weight of grief before and I have overcome it. You carry Obi-Wan’s grief and your own. That is too much for one person to bear. I know that my loss withers under the weight of the loss of your husband and I don’t mean to demean your grief by comparing it to my own.”

A bitter laugh escaped Padme’s lips, “Gods, did the whole galaxy know we were married?” 

Kit laughed softly along with her, “We all envied Anakin a little, you know. He had someone to love. All of the people in this galaxy have lost something but you two, you _gained_ something greater. We all knew about it since the beginning. All the younger Council members came together and managed to convince the elders that maybe a change in our ways was for the best. We saw how his affection for you made him stronger, not weaker. He was a powerful and passionate man, Padme. You were lucky to have him. And as much as it hurts to lose him, you must remember that you still have a life to live. I wanted to give up after Nahdar died. I wanted to quit the war and the Jedi because it was their fault that someone I loved was taken from me. Obi-Wan helped me through my grief because he went through it with Qui-Gon. And recently, he told me how you pushed away your grief to help him with his and he vanished before he had the chance to do the same thing to you. So here, standing in for the honourable Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am your knight in chestnut robes, your shoulder to cry on, your wingman when the world turns dark.” He accentuated his declaration by throwing open his arms. 

Padme took the open arms as an invitation faster than Kit could have ever imagined. She flew into his arms and clutched the back of his robes in tight fists, openly sobbing into the shoulder of a man she barely knew. He rubbed her back gently, compassion and benevolence the only emotions present in his mind.

“It’s… it’s just I- I miss him so much. He- he should be here with me now. But he’s not and there’s nothing I can do. I- I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“Shh… it’s okay. Don’t apologize. You never have to hide your grief from me or anyone.” 

“When Obi-Wan first told me, I was in shock. But then later, it just hit me. He wasn’t coming back. That part of my life was gone and it wouldn’t ever come back. I felt terrible I just wanted to-to die. I wanted to end my life because mine meant nothing without him. He meant everything to me. I couldn’t think of life without him. I still can’t think of life without him. But then I remembered that I am responsible for the wellbeing of the child inside of me. I have to be strong for them… I have to be. Oh but how am I supposed to raise a child on my own? I have a career! I can’t just drop everything I’m doing. I can’t! Why did he have to die? Why him? Why did he have to leave me?” Padme was positively hysterical by now, hiccupping sobs shredding the last ounce of dignity she had kept hidden away. Kit chose to make no mention of the discovery that Padme was pregnant, this was neither the time or place to have such conversations.

“I don’t know, Padme. I don’t know. Sometimes decisions are made _for_ us without consideration _of_ us. Whether or not you believe in the Force, we have accept that some things will always be out of our control. And I know, that sometimes it hurts, that sometimes it feels like nobody cares, that sometimes you feel so angry that it happened to you, that sometimes it feels as though the galaxy is against you, but you must remember that it’s not. The galaxy is not inherently evil. Sometimes there are just things in your way you must pilot around. A very wise man by the name of Bail Organa once told me, it’s like piloting a ship. No matter which direction you go, no matter what course you take, there will always be something in the way eventually whether it be a star, planet, nebula, asteroid, or any other kind of phenomenon. There are no straight paths in the galaxy and there are no straight paths in life. I can’t tell you why he died and it pains me to see you in such agony. The least I can do is offer my support and help you get through this. I can’t take away your pain, I cannot experience the grief for you, but I can be there when you need someone to talk to.” 

Padme sniffled and sat back to wipe the tears from her eyes with the tail of her shirt. Her brown hair had fallen out of its braids and sat like a veil over the widow’s face. Self-consciously she straightened out her crumpled shirt, years of etiquette classes retaking over. 

“And I thought Jedi were supposed to be emotionless.” 

“Oh how sometimes I wish we were. But we’re not. Nobody is. And even though one particular senator might believe she cannot live without her husband, it’s not true. You can live without your husband. You are right now. His loss will never go away, that’s part of the grieving process, but you can be strong for him. You will learn, you will adapt, but you will never forget and nobody’s asking you to forget. You are a impeccably strong woman, you stand in front of thousands of beings _every day_ to give speeches and never flinch. I can’t even speak to a class of younglings without starting to sweat! You fearlessly rush to conference after conference in order to speak on people’s behalfs. You’ve survived numerous assassination attempts, you helped take down a corruption ring on Mandalore with the Duchess, kark, you survived a _bioweapon_ attack and never lost your nerve! You inspire so many people, Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo and you don’t even see it. So from the bottom of my heart, the people of the galaxy thank you for all you have done. And all you will do.”

Padme’s hickory eyes locked onto Kit’s mahogany ones. They exchanged a minute of silence, each lost in their own thoughts before the Nabooian senator found her words once again. 

“But where am I supposed to go from here?”

“You can go wherever you want. You can choose to keep your career or not, you can become an equal rights activist, you could fight corruption, you could quit politics completely and go live on a nice beach planet somewhere. You can do whatever you want, Padme. You’ve always been able to. As long as you’re moving forward, that’s all that matters. We have a saying on Glee Anselm, ‘Sahe’a al’ior eotaeni’.”

“Sah-ella Al-ee-or Ee-tah-ee-ni?” Padme queried, the unfamiliar language tripping up her tongue. 

“Sah-eh-ah Ah-lye-your Ee-ah-tay-ni.” Kit corrected gently, a small smile appearing on his face, “It’s Nau-ta’o, the language of Nautolans like me. It’s a very musical language because it’s supposed to sound like a siren’s call when spoken.”

“What does ‘Sahe’a al’ior eotaeni’ mean?” 

“Well, there’s not really a way to translate it into Basic directly but the closest I guess would be ‘courage brings peace’. It’s a reminder that pushing forward through hardship is the best way to bring peace to your heart. And ‘Sahe’a’ means sister.”

“That’s beautiful. I’ve never been to Glee Anselm but maybe, if this war ends, I’ll go. I’ll take my child to all these new places to show them the galaxy their father never got to explore. Oh what I am talking about, you probably have no interest in hearing about the whims of a senator.” She laughed and Kit joined in softly.

“It’s perfectly alright. Whims become dreams and dreams become reality. All you have to do is wish hard enough. Now I must excuse myself, I am due to take over the pilot’s chair because Yoda just ‘doesn’t want to’,” Kit’s tone was clearly annoyed and his recreation of Yoda’s remark was even complete with its own set of air quotes. “I swear, someday I’m going to take that stick of his to his own shins. You also need your rest. Please, do not hesitant to find me if you need something. Have a good evening, Senator. It was a pleasure speaking to you.” Ending his statement with a small but formal bow, he turned on his heels and took a step towards the door.

“Kit, wait.”

The Nautolan paused on his way to the door, half turning to face Padme. 

“How do you say ‘thank you brother’ in Nau-tao?” A wide grin split the Jedi’s face momentarily. 

“Olean rarai, Sahe’na.”

“Well then, _Olean rarai, Sahe’na._ ”

“You are very welcome, Senator. Al’ior eotaeni.”

Kit gave a little smile, the door sliding shut behind him.  
Suddenly the silence didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to HedgehogJawn for the beta again! You're amazing!


End file.
